


deep in the water, we're drownin' us

by morelenmir



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Concussions, Drabble, Flirting, Gallows Humor, Hurt CC-2224 | Cody, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morelenmir/pseuds/morelenmir
Summary: Kenobi applies the cool gel and smooths the plaster over Cody's bloodied scalp, continues to tease the unwincing Cody in an undertone, laughing for Cody’s ears alone. And Cody watches him, clasps his wrist, trying to put his heart into the Force for Obi-Wan to sense his feelings.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 171





	deep in the water, we're drownin' us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loudlikeluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudlikeluke/gifts).



> Writing soundtrack: [Zero: Fever Part.1](https://open.spotify.com/album/01IFxHiVOY6uf3vUFVXEoI?si=i-clEzJ1RmCSwk10p1LBCg) by Ateez.
> 
> Title from ["Un Dia"](https://open.spotify.com/track/0EhpEsp4L0oRGM0vmeaN5e?si=jm1KS8liSleT0tGu8RucrQ) by Dua Lipa, Bad Bunny, and J Balvin, featuring Tainy.
> 
> In fitting with canon, there is mild description of injuries and Cody thinks a bit about death and the futility of the clones' existence. Man needs basic human rights, a hug, and therapy.

Cody turns his battered helmet over in his head, wondering if he can bludgeon the new dent out enough he can wear it again. He doesn’t want a new bucket, pristine white plastoid devoid of every ding he’s taken. He’s mildly concussed, faintly amused by the sentimental course of his musing.

A few bodies over, Kal is scanning a young trooper who’s worse off than Cody. A fine medic, Kal might be able to save the shinie’s arm. The General is somewhere, no doubt moving through the entirety of Ghost Company as they dig in for the night, checking in with his men. They’re luckily beyond shelling range and Cody thinks wistfully of sleeping more than thirty minutes. He thinks wistfully of the General’s concerned blue eyes.

He sighs and moves to thunk the scarred helmet against his forehead. Maybe if the concussion is jarred out of his head, he won’t be distracted? Seems logical.

“Fierfek, Commander!” Kal snatches the helmet away and scowls at him. Cody can feel it through the medic’s visor. “Additional head trauma won’t net you any points.”

“But I want to win the pool.” Cody’s teasing, face drawn and pointedly stern.

He snorts. “You are so far behind. Boil is going to unseat Clanky’s position as clone with the most dumb injuries.” He finishes the scan and tuts like a mother in a holodrama. “Sir, your leg--”

“I know.” His ankle lets out an awakening howl, pulled back into Cody’s awareness. “Got some chill on it.”

“Least you’re not making it more swollen.” Kal jabs the ankle; Cody scowls.

“You’re injured?”

Cody doesn’t startle. Kal’s breath almost hitches before evening out—good man. The General’s cloak hangs still around his frame. He could’ve been standing there for a full minute or simply sprinted over and then used the Force to make him look this impeccable and poised.

“I’m fine, sir.”

Kal sets the bucket next to Cody and Kenobi’s gaze instantly zeroes in on it. Bright blue eyes flick up to meet Cody’s, narrowed with professional concern. “Head injury?”

“I’m fine.”

“Mild concussion, sir,” Kal says cheerfully. He rattles through Cody’s minor ailments while setting a compression band on Cody’s ankle, then slaps a patch kit in the General’s hand and vanishes in search of more prey.

Cody stares straight ahead. Kenobi stares at his face.

“You’re remarkably obstinate.” Kenobi cracks open the medpac.

“It’s a better quality than being obtuse, sir.”

His laugh is soft enough to be taken as a puff of wind. Kenobi’s hands are practiced and smooth, unpacking the contents and readying the tube of gel. Not for the first time, Cody thinks about how his brothers, fodder for the clanker armies, are denied access to healing tools like bacta. Being one of the GAR’s darling battalions doesn’t mean they get materials equal to non-clone personnel. And not for the first time, he dispels the thought and anchors himself in the present, in the cool sting as the General applies gel to his head wound.

“Shouldn’t waste the materials on me, sir. There’s six others who can use it more than me,” Cody says while the General firmly smooths a plaster over the small wound.

“Do you require someone to sit on you until you’ve received proper medical attention?” he replies loftily. The Coruscant accent arches higher, matching well with his calculating glance.

“Restraint is unnecessary.” Cody grins before he realises what he’s doing. “And there’s no one available.”

“Are you implying your General lacks the skills to restrain you for your own benefit?”

The concussion must be the reason behind all this; Cody’s grin tilts into a smirk and he says, “Are you offering to sit on me, General?”

“Commander--”

Cody winks. He’s going to regret this once his head is on straight, but that’s an issue for his future self to resolve.

“Your head is bleeding.” There’s no mistaking the fondness in his gaze; neither of them can dodge away from it.

“It’s but a minor flesh wound.” The ankle is another matter but stims and a compression wrap should carry him through the remainder of the engagement.

Kenobi laughs quietly, for Cody’s ears alone. “Even concussed, you’re irrepressible.”

“I’ve been informed that’s one of my most capable features.” Boldly he clasps Kenobi’s wrist, his white armored hand swallowed inside the robe’s voluminous sleeve. “Or what it most attractive? Hard to recall; I think I have a concussion, sir.” The responding snort is undignified, loud and rude. Cody is delighted. Leaving his captured wrist where it rests, Kenobi prods Cody’s skull with two fingers. Cody doesn’t wince, maintaining his smirk.

Ah, now Cody knows where General Skywalker learned those eloquent eyerolls.

“You’re going to stay here and let that ankle set. Kal will report back on the injured and I’ve already received reports from the squad leaders. _Rest_ , Cody.” He grips Cody’s pauldron, staring firmly into his face.

“General.” He can feel the warmth of Kenobi’s touch searing through his plastoid armor. Quietly he releases Kenobi’s wrist, hand dropping to absently pinch a tuft of the turquoise grass.

“Commander.”

Cody will never win a staring contest against him. He’s a military man through and through, his top priority is protecting the Republic, and until Cody dies, he’ll fall perpetually into those ice blue eyes. Loyalty is bred into them and yet nothing in the flash training, nothing in the grueling physical courses, ever covered what to do when a clone’s heart beats more for their Jedi than for the cause.

All he can do is watch his General. He hopes when he dies, the last thing he’ll be able to picture will be Kenobi’s face. If the galaxy isn’t too cruel, if the Force isn’t too indifferent, if he is lucky enough…

“Where are you off to, Cody?” Kenobi sits back on his haunches, squishing the wrappers to shove inside the used medpac. It disappears somewhere inside his robes. He turns a faint smile on Cody that makes him wrench his wandering gaze away. It’s dark enough the trees’ silhouettes aren’t visible even with the splotches of colour marking where his men are bivouacked. There isn’t much to hold his attention. The General huffs a silent laugh and lowers himself to sit properly. His boots are caked with green mud.

“Why can I only feel your emotions when your cognition is scrambled?” he murmurs, shoulder to shoulder with Cody and staring at the black sky.

“Clones aren’t meant to be a burden to the Jedi, only a resource,” Cody reminds him. “Training and conditioning make us an optimal force. Distractions are hazardous.”

Kenobi’s lips twist again, rueful this time. “I am aware of the notion. Your individuality is still important.”

“Not in an army, sir.”

“Cody…” He’s silent for a long moment. Cody’s breath feels tangled inside his lungs, escaping between his ribs to flood his chest. “It brings me comfort to feel you. Sense more of you.”

Cody opens his mouth and a muted gasp is all that passes his lips.

He continues, “I trust you to not reserve yourself around me. And I hope you’ll trust me enough, as well.”

It’s not about trust nor loyalty. Cody tries to speak again. “You make terrible military decisions, sir.” Oh, that isn’t what he meant to say. Judging by the grin and raised eyebrow, Kenobi hadn’t expected it either. Eating a blaster is nearly appealing right now. He plows ahead, “On deck, I won’t be reserved. You’re my General and I support you, but it’s also my responsibility to check rash choices so we can win in the end.”

The grin softens. It almost looks sad. “That’s not precisely what I meant. Thank you for the reassurance.” Cody is dimly amused the General thinks _he_ is too emotionally reserved, when nearly every Jedi he’s met has never experienced a single feeling in their life. Kenobi gathers his robes in one hand and pushes upright gracefully. “Sleep, Commander. I must call the Council.”

“General--”

He’s gone already, carried silently into the dark. Words catch futilely on the back of his teeth, clog his throat like sand. There’s always too many words hovering between them and one day Cody feels he’s going to choke on them. He drums his fingers once on the severely dented bucket and carefully eases himself down. His head rests on the rock that previously was his backrest and he keeps the helmet close enough to hear any chatter. There’s no stars visible on this planet.

“Good night, Obi-Wan.”

The helmet comm crackles with a tinny Coruscant accent.

“Good night, Cody.”

There aren’t stars but he can see the Negotiator in geosynchronous orbit. Cody taps his bucket fondly and turns a small, tired smile on their deadly star. He’ll sleep until his brothers and his emotionally distant General need him.

**Author's Note:**

> They flirt by saying "General" and "Commander", and are truly the worst-kept secret in the 212th, right after Cody’s stash of backup Jedi General cloaks.
> 
> This is a birthday gift for Luke! I'm on the RexObi train myself, and yet CodyWan has so much beautiful angst potential... This was a blast to write.


End file.
